


do you think you could look up to me?

by wolfchester



Series: every heart breaks like a wave in the bay [1]
Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: F/M, I have a lot of feelings, Pining, Unrequited Love, and so does kovacs apparently, i can't help it okay i LOVE THEM, or so kovacs thinks...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester
Summary: takeshi thought it was impossible for him to love anyone other than quell. without him really knowing, without him realising. kristin ortega has proved that theory so awfully, miserably, beautifully wrong
Relationships: Takeshi Kovacs/Kristin Ortega
Series: every heart breaks like a wave in the bay [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652896
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	do you think you could look up to me?

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE MANY FEELINGS
> 
> why do i always fall for the couple who are literally never going to be together ???? i hate my liiiiife
> 
> enjoy this lil thing i cooked up today. will be a part of a (hopefully) 3 part series. yay
> 
> title from: ‘places / plans’ by skullcrusher

For a long time, it was only Quellcrist. Nadia. The only woman he’d ever been scared of. In awe of. Worshipped. Loved, with every cell in his body, every pump of blood from his heart.

He’s spent centuries loving her, chasing her, searching for her, being haunted by her. Misses that smile she saved just for him. Misses the way she used to touch him. The way her mouth moved when she called him _love_. 

Yes, he loved her -- _loves_ her. He does. 

But he can no longer deny the way he feels when he looks at Ortega.

Kristin.

(Yes, they’re on fucking first name basis now.)

 _Don’t become dependent on the locals_ , Quell had told him. _They’re expendable. They’re all expendable._

 _Not Kristin_ , he’d yell if Quell was here. She’d probably raise an eyebrow, keep her lips in a tight line, cross her arms and wait for him to explain himself. _Not Kristin,_ he’d say. _She’s different._

_She’s real._

He knew he felt something for her the night he saw her at Suntouch House, at that ridiculous party Bancroft threw, where he had to kill that stupid couple in the zero-gravity arena and found out that he was legally Bancroft’s property, that he wasn’t going to be free for a long time. He’d spotted her before she did him, his gaze catching on that figure-hugging black dress, toned calves, beautifully curled hair. 

It had been a long fucking time since he’d felt something for a woman -- a real, live one -- that surpassed the usual urge to fuck. 

Kristin had confronted him about sleeping with Miriam -- which, by the way, he really wasn’t proud of -- and cussed him out for fucking a suspect. And she wasn’t wrong to tell him off, really. It was a dumb move. Gave Miriam leverage over him and a reason for Bancroft to want him dead. 

It did make Kristin angry, though, and he liked her angry, because then she’d look up at him through furrowed dark brows with fists clenched at her sides. So tiny compared to him. A little ball of fire. She’d stalked off and barely talked to him for the rest of the night until she had saved him from that anti-gravity pit.

God _damn_ it, the way his fucking heart jumped when she’d fired that gun, stared at his bloody face with some kind of care or fucking heartbreak or whatever in her eyes. He knew this was something different.

It wasn’t until he had arrived unannounced at her place and her mom had tried to kill him that he realised the _something different_ was that he didn’t just remind her of someone she once knew, he _was_ that someone. He was wearing his fucking sleeve.

Her old partner. Elias Ryker. And although she never said as much, her lover, too. 

The thought of that makes him want to blow his stack out. Not because he’s jealous, but because he can’t believe his fucking luck. The universe -- no, Bancroft -- played some kind of sick fucking joke on him. And because he’s developed some kind of affection or care for this tiny firecracker of a woman, he feels an obligation now to protect this fucking sleeve, this man’s face he’s wearing, because that’s the face she loves.

He throws on a smirk and tries to squeeze information about Ryker out of her like it’s a game. She’s obviously uncomfortable talking about it, not wanting to admit what that man means to her. He feels sick to his stomach but he ribs her about it anyway.

He wants to make some joke about how he thought she had a crush on him but it turns out she just thinks his sleeve is hot, but no such words leave his mouth. It would all hit too close to home because he thinks that’s probably what _is_ happening here.

After she spills her guts about Ryker (she never says the word love, but he knows it’s on the tip of her tongue) she asks him to leave. 

“I think you should go,” she says, throwing the words over her shoulder as she makes busywork of plumping up pillows on the couch and rearranging the books on her coffee table. They’re covered in a thick layer of dust. She doesn’t have the time to read.

“And what if I don’t want to?” he asks, keeping his voice light and his hands in his jacket pockets.

Kristin spins to face him. “I wasn’t really giving you a choice. You need to leave now.”

“Why?” Takeshi asks. She steps towards him. He doesn’t budge, lets her come to him, watches as her lips purse together as she frowns.

“Because,” she replies, voice cracking a little. “Because,” she repeats after clearing her throat. “You just— you—“ 

And the way she fucking looks up at him, with those dark fucking eyes, like she’s not really seeing him. Like she’s trying to separate Kovacs from Ryker — trying, and failing. He knows she fails because of the way she instinctively brings her hand up to rest on his chest, clutching at the fabric of his coat. 

Her face is close to his, now. Too close. Dangerously close. 

_Do you think you could look up to me like you looked up to him?_ he wants to ask. _Do you think you could love me the way you loved him?_

He knows the answer. It’s the same one he’d give if she ever asked him the reverse question. 

No.

Her heart, body, mind, soul belongs to Ryker, the same way he belongs to Nadia.

Falling for her is like scattering seed on rocky ground. Nothing’s going to grow. Nothing can.

With the hand pressed against his chest, she pushes him away. “Don’t look at me like that,” she hisses through clenched teeth, and he supposes she’s trying to sound menacing, but the words come out more like she’s trying to hold back tears. 

_Like what?_ he wants to say, but Kristin turns her back to him and disappears into the darkness of her bedroom, the hard set of her shoulders warning that this is not an invitation for him to follow her there.

And then he is alone -- like he often finds himself these days -- staring into the middle distance, breathing steadily, feeling the lungs of a sleeve that’s not his expand and retract. 

The sleeve of the man she’s in love with. 

He will never be the one she wants. He knows this. Deep down, he really does.

And yet.

And _yet_.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @tommeshelby to cry about how these two deserved SO much mor ewow


End file.
